One Fine Day
by NinjaPirateCowboy
Summary: Three Familiar Faces. They are not who you think they are. You may be supprised by them. but then again you may not. Rated R, Dirty words and adults Situations, oh my, so read it quick!


Vice City: 10:12 AM

He felt like screaming as the coke tore up his Nasal Passage. His head popped up. His Blood shot eyes bugged slightly. He rubbed his face. His hands were rough from a life of prison and Other people's dirty work. He blinked his eyes several times, As if trying to blink his problems away.

"HOT SHIT!" He roared, surprising awake a coke whore passed out on the couch across from him "Thats some good goddamn powder!"

He was becoming an addict and he didn't seem to give a shit. The coke whore let out a catty laugh. There was dried blood under her nose. Not from a hot smack to a smart mouthed whore, but from dusty sinuses. She shook her head. Trying to shake the bed webs away. She leaned forward. Her nose going straight for the mirror on the table. Tommy Watched her go for the coke. Like a fucking bloodhound.

Tommy's Buggy eyes turned toward the porch windows. Early morning sun streamed in. Light crept across the plush carpet of the huge bedroom. He had fought and killed for this house, For Vice city. He rubbed his eyes again. And what did he do with his power? Sat around like a fucking junkie, snorting coke and nailing filthy skank whores. He looked down as the cokehead ditz finished her third line. She was Trash. He was Trash. He hated her. But at the same time felt the need to use her. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her towards the couch. He opened his robe and fondled himself until he got hard, not hard to do with all the Coke in his system. The Coke whore Was giggling at her fortune to find herself at the center of Tommy Vercetti's Attentions. He yanked her skirt up. He tore off her stained panties. Her Pussy was crusty and filthy. Dry Semen. Whose was it? A good deal of it was most likely Tommy's, most of it at least. Like she had been the center piece of a Crack head gang bang. He felt disgusted.

"I forgot to take a bath last night" She giggled "Want to wait for a bit baby? Let me get clean?"

He was speechless. He felt so goddamn angry at her all of a sudden. She was a filthy skank whore. And she was telling him what to do. That shit wasn't about to fly. He Flipped her over. He spit in his hand. He greased down his cock. He jammed his cock up her ass. The Coke whore screamed. Tears sprang from her cheeks. Mascara Ran.

Flint County 12:53

The Young Black man owned the road, in his BF Remington. He looked at peace with the world as he drove down the coastline. He was on the road again. It was three years After TenPenny had been killed. The riots had taken a toll on the grove street Families. The Goddamn cops had clamped down on the hood. Everyone wear green After that got fucked with by C.R.A.S.H. But not just the GSF, the Ballas and the Mexican gangs got fucked with too.

Some Damn fool, thought it would be a good idea to start Claiming Racism. Some Jackass who never set foot in Ganton. Started Sueing the Police left and right. This did nothing to help. More Niggas went for more Country side Rides in the back of black and whites then ever before. Racial Tension was on the Rise in San Andreas. It was gonna explode sometime, and sometime soon. On top a that, Almost every business or had a stake in was losing money. That Rosenberg cocksucker really fucked him over investment wise. Woozie was dead. Kendle and Ceaser, There wasn't enough left a them to bury. A car Bomb had seen to that. Some fucking Vagos thought it might be a good Idea to play terrorist. Sweet, Sweet was back in Jail on a possession rap. Madd Dogg was caught in bed with a fifteen year old boy and the English rapper Maccer. He was shanked in prison. The Truth had disappeared. He dropped five hits of acid and wandered off into the Desert. Long story short. He was alone and fucked.

The huge Luxury car glided into the parking lot of a diner. The Door squealed as it was thrown open. His boots crunched on gravel. The bell over the door chimed as he strolled in. He squeezed into a booth. Being out here on the road was great. Free of mind. He could unleash his bloodlust and anger on a few country folks. There was an M-4 and a collection of knives in the trunk of the Remington for just such an occasion. He Gazed out the window. San Andreas. Los Santos, Las Ventura, San Fierro, and a number a small towns. He owned them all not a year ago. Now He owned a stake in a casino that was losing money and his mom's house, that was it. Shit was rough. He needed money. He was thinking about moving to a new city. Starting over.

A huge hairy Fist Slamed down onto his table.

"What you doin' in my Town, Nigger!" a Huge fellow with a Blue Baseball cap and a big red beard yelled in his face.

Liberty City 1:45

The Mute thug ducked out the way, as a small TV Sailed through the air and exploded on the wall behind him.

"WHO THE FUCK IS SHE?!" Catalina roared, Not caring that mute had no idea what she was talking about, or that he could not anwser. "WHOSE FUCKING HAIR IS THIS IN YOUR SHORTS, PENDAJO!"

She was starting to lose it, she really was. The Mute had to get out of there for awhile. He grabbed his leather coat of the couch. He shrugged into it.

"WHERE THE FUCKED YOU GOING?!" She Screamed as she was across the room in no time flat. "TO FUCK THAT PUTA, AIN'T YOU!"

He turned and slapped her. She flew into the wall. He had only slapped her Twice before. But it shut her up good when he did. She looked at him. That look in her eyes. That glowing hand print on her cheek. He shook his head and retreated out of the apartment. The hot afternoon beat down on him like a bake oven. He considered taking the jacket off. Fuck it, He thought, Bulked up and I look good in the leather.

He eventually found his way into Micky's. A neighborhood Irish Pub. The bartender knew what his regular beer was. He didn't know sign language but seemed to understand pointing, The thug settled onto a barstool and diverted his attention to the Beavers. They were going to the big game. The three or four other patrons were glued to the TV.

By the end of the game he had decided he was going to take a trip, to get away from Catalina for a little while. He loved her, but she could get on a mother fucker's nerves. He should have encouraged her to go back to that Banger. It would have made things so much easier. It was just complicated.

His eye's drifted from the screen. His mind drifting over destinations.

"EVERYBODY GET ON THE FUCKING FLOOR" a Voice yelled from behind him, why was everyone yelling around him today "GIMMIE ALL THAT GODDAMN MONEY!"

Nobody paid attention to him. It was much harder to get attention in Mickey's place. Putting a load a Buck Shot into Micky's Leg seemed to do the trick though.

End Chapter one.


End file.
